


your mind plus your heart makes two

by Kura



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: FCW era, Fluff, M/M, bickering and bantering, just another night at a shitty hotel, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 17:48:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1950495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kura/pseuds/Kura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He should stay away, he knows. Dean is dangerous – not in the murderous way... hopefully – and his stupid ambivalent feelings for him are even worse. He should keep his distance, stop thinking about the guy every possible second. Keep it professional. But Seth has also never been known for stepping down from a challenge; as crackbrained as it might be.</p>
<p>He knows he'll never let go of Dean the moment the other turns back to him and shoots him an angry glare while being able to smile at the same time, waving two fingers to indicate he wants Seth to move. It shouldn't be sexy but it is.</p>
<p>There is something about Dean – he can't quite put his finger on it – that draws him in. Like catnip. Yeah, he's so fucked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your mind plus your heart makes two

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually inspired by one of Kane's "Are We There Yet?" stories that made me laugh for an hour straight (and still does whenever I think about it). I obviously took a lot of liberties with it, but I hope you'll enjoy this anyway. If you find any mistakes, please tell me. I've read this story so often by now that I can't even distinguish the words anymore. So, have fun with this =)

He can't even tell anyone how relieved he is when he opens the door to his hotel room and sees the comfy, huge bed staring at him, calling him home. He's had a tough night, his whole body hurting in places he didn't think were even possible anymore.

But that's what fighting Dean Ambrose is like. That guy... that stupidly handsome and horribly boorish guy is driving Seth insane since he barged into _his_ territory and set eyes on _his_ title.

(Yes, he knows it's what he did too when he got into FCW, but at least he has some manners. He doesn't show up to one of the other's matches with drinks and fast food in his arms. Like, who does Dean even think he is?)

But then again, fighting that unpredictable guy is a challenge Seth really likes to step up to. If he's being completely honest with himself he has to admit that Dean brings out the best and worst in him, making him want to defeat that man over and over again, just so that Dean will continue to haunt him until he finally has what he came here for.

Matches with him tend to be so physical, but Seth enjoys them the most. Dean Ambrose sometimes is is always so unpredictable and Seth enjoys to be a witness to what the other does next.

But he's got to hand it to him, Dean has a lot of talent in that huge, well-trained body of his and Seth would feel totally hollow inside if the other found someone else to pursue.

(Okay, he might have a little crush going on there, but he's always had a type for the 'bad boys', because in reality they are bog, old softies.)

The shower is nice even though the water won't get warm enough to be comfortable, which is why he cuts it really short and changes into a pair of thin pj buttons and a light gray Glamour Kills shirt, crawling under the covers to get some well deserved sleep.

He's lying there for maybe five minutes, probably even less, when he hears it. Someone is walking down the hall with heavy, faltering steps, coming to a halt in front of his door. He sits up and watches a bit horrified how the handle gets pushed down and the door opens.

Before he can react – like jump out of bed to hide underneath it or grab the lamp to use it as a weapon – the lights are turned back on and someone with bright blue eyes blinks confused, a scowl settling on his face at the sight that greets him.

Well, thanks jerk. He's not that happy either to see Dean Ambrose standing in his room, looking like he's about to pass out any second; still clad in his ring gear. (So this is who he really is at the end of the day? Just another normal human being. It should be disappointing, but to Seth it's nice to get the confirmation that Dean can be a decent person too).

'The fuck are _you_ doing here?' Or not.

'No, no, no,' he retorts, torn between getting up and throwing Dean out of here and staying where he is, hiding his body behind the covers as if the fellow wrestler hasn't already seen him almost naked – or touched every inch of him in the ring. 'The real question is, what are _you_ doing in _my_ room? Where did you get the key?'

And why is he still standing in the doorway, looking all kinds of lost and on the verge of collapsing (and holy shit, doesn't that make him just really cute and adorable?) while throwing his bag next to the bed, making himself at home even though he shouldn't even be here?

'Not your room. It's mine. Now get out.' First of all, no. And second, how about a nice please and maybe a smile? Seth is sure that this is just a big misunderstanding, maybe even a terrible rib the guys try to either pull on him or Dean.

Judging by Dean's non-existent list of friends, he'd say the joke is not on himself tonight.

'No, I have a key,' he insists adamantly, finally deciding to get up and stand his ground. Dean doesn't seem fazed by it. In fact, his body even deflates a bit, like he's tired of trying to hide something from Seth. Well, now he's made him curious. But nonetheless, Dean shouldn't be standing there at all. 'I was here first, so... my room.'

The other heaves a sigh and rubs over his face sleepily, finally stepping closer so he can shut the door. It's weird but as soon as it's closed, Seth feels trapped. And as if the walls are coming closer to push him gently against Dean, like he's imagined once or twice (more like a hundred times already) in his dreams. He swallows hard and tries to not let it show on his face what he's currently thinking.

Dean already hates him enough. Knowing he has a minor (major) crush on his co-worker would probably destroy every last shred of kindness the other might still harbor for him.

Seth doesn't want even a single thing to change between them. At least not for the worse.

'I don't give a damn about you and your key. I booked this shithole, it's mine. Get your ass outta here.' Seth looks down at his hands, trying to come up with something nice to say. He feels wrongly attacked right now and it's making him angry. He doesn't want to give Dean so much control over him, which is why he calms down again and assesses the whole situation from another point of view.

'Listen, there clearly has been some kind of mistake,' he starts, brain working at full capacity and Seth finally feels like he has the upper hand again. They can sort this out, should try to find whoever is behind this stupid joke and part like two grown ups, so that they'll never have to talk about this again.

Dean has other plans, as it would seem. He's stepping closer once again, taking off his leather jacket to throw it on the chair in the corner. 'I don't care. I wanna sleep. _Now_.' Wow, rude. (Why does he turn him on?)

Seth shakes his head to clear his thoughts again. There is no time to swoon over Dean because he wants to use that bed right now too. And even if he's being childish now, but he has been here first. No matter who gave Dean a second key, he's too late. Early birds and all that.

'Look, let's get this cleared up like two adults, okay?' Because they are grow up men and don't need to settle this with a fist fight – which Dean would probably win. Well, maybe not tonight because the other looks like he has a lot of trouble just to keep standing on his own feet. But they have already had a very tiring match tonight and Seth likes to win battles with his brain rather than his physical strength.

Dean stays stubbornly silent, standing there in front of him, just watching him with steel-blue eyes. There is no smirk on his face, no frown casting a shadow over it. If Dean wouldn't be blinking once in a while, Seth would be convinced he's already dead.

The only thing he realizes because of Dean's inability to talk to him like a reasonable person is that his co-worker has no intentions of leaving this room. Ever. Even if he has to throw Seth out of the window (and he has no doubt that that might happen in the next few minutes) to get to bed in peace.

So it's his responsibility to be the rational one and find a solution for this. Fine, he can do that. If Dean rather wants to behave like a caveman, then please, proceed. Rile him up. Continue to be a petulant child. Whatever. As long as he doesn't throw him through the framework.

Seth walks casually away from the window, rounding the bed to stand next to Dean, wringing his hands while coming up with a plan. 'Okay, I can work with silence. We should go to the reception and ask what's gone wrong. Get you a new room too, while we're already there.'

And while they're at it, Dean should put on some clothes, because it gets more than a little distracting. Seth is already surprised that the other walked through the whole building with just trunks, boots and a leather jacket, hair still a bit wet with sweat.

Seth could ask Dean to put on something, but he really likes the idea of the other wearing one of his shirts, which is why he just walks to his bag and rummages through it, trying to find a spare one that's a bit too big for him, so it'll fit Dean.

He doesn't expect to ever get it back – if Dean accepts it, that is – doesn't even want it back. Just the thought of Dean having one of his shirts, maybe wearing it in a moment of weakness and loneliness, is almost too good to be true. He's a second away from breaking out in a fit of hysteric giggles.

Thing is though, he has only two spare shirts with him and one of them is his favorite. He really enjoys the mental image of Dean in his clothes but there is a line here Seth can't cross. He's had that shirt for years now and even though it might fall apart at some places, threads hanging loose, he won't ever give that away. Which leaves a top that is even a tiny bit too tight for Seth.

'Put this on,' he commands, ignoring the _the fuck did you just say; I don't respond well to orders_ look Dean shoots him. Seth can see it in the other's face; there's an internal battle taking place, two options rattling through his head. One: punch Seth into the next millennium. Two: take the damn shirt, so he'll shut the fuck up.

(There's also option number three, which would be: get my own stuff, so I won't look like a muffin top. There is no way Dean hasn't come to work without spare clothes – and Seth has seen him arrive earlier tonight in perfectly looking blue jeans and a pitch black tank top, so if anything else fails, he'd still have that.

But a closer look at Dean's bag reveals that it seems to be empty. It's lying really flat on the floor, making him wonder where the heck Dean's stuff disappeared to. Maybe this is also a part of the rib. Seth has had his clothes 'stolen' by his teammates once or twice too. Which is why he's often dallied with the idea to start wrestling in a different attire.)

Dean eventually snatches the shirt out of his hands with a snarl (really? What is he, the street dog everyone believes him to be?) and puts it on. It's... really tight, though their bodies aren't that different. Dean is just a bit taller and more brawny. He doesn't look like he's just put on a shirt that's five sizes too small; this one is just the right kind of tight for Dean.

It's making all of his muscles, as well as the nice little abs stand out. But what catches Seth's attention the most are the arms, stretching the fabric so much (and fabulously) that Seth is sure he'll wear it out in no time. If he'd get it back the next morning, it'd probably not even fit him anymore. Which says a lot about Dean's body.

What were they doing again before Seth decided it was time to ogle Dean? Oh right, the whole debacle with the room. They should head downstairs now. Without him saying something about Dean's weird but hot look. There is a smirk tugging at his lips when Dean sighs and punches the bridge of his nose, his mouth moving without his permission. 'Hot damn.'

For the love of God, does he have a death wish?

His heart beats wildly inside his chest, his body waiting for the first punch. (That he'd totally deserve.) But all he gets for that is a hard stare and an almost smile. It's not much but Seth guesses it's better than nothing, so he slips into his sneakers barefoot and grabs Dean by the wrist, tugging him along to the elevator, not letting go even when the doors close right in front of their eyes.

The quiet isn't an uncomfortable one – especially because Dean hasn't tried to free himself out of his grip yet – but Seth feels the need to break it anyway. This is his chance to get to know Dean a lot better. Who knows how the night will end once they've worked this whole issue out. This might be his only chance to do it. And he isn't known for missing out on such opportunities.

'You're way more talkative in the ring, you know that?' He doesn't turn his head towards Dean, but he can see in their slightly misshapen reflections on the elevator doors that the other is grinning that smug trademark smile Seth is so used to. It does unspeakable (wonderful) things to his heartbeat – and the lower regions of his body.

The moment the doors open, Dean yanks his arm free as if he's suddenly been burnt and Seth can see how the other tenses completely. Wow. Just because there are people in the lobby and he wants to keep up the _don't fuck with me or I'll chop your head off with a fork_ attitude he's worked so hard for? And what? Is it really that bad to be seen with him in public. It's not like they were holding hands or anything.

'Shut the fuck up,' Dean mutters loud enough for everyone to hear, but Seth won't buy that bullshit anymore. Not when he's close to just leaving Dean here without his stuff and key, so he can't barge into his room a second time tonight. 'Jeez, grumpy,' he just shoots back, no real heat in his voice.

Dean Ambrose is a mystery and Seth wants to solve it.

(He should stay away, he knows. Dean is dangerous – not in the murderous way... hopefully – and his stupid ambivalent feelings for him are even worse. He should keep his distance, stop thinking about the guy every possible second. Keep it professional. But Seth has also never been known for stepping down from a challenge; as crackbrained as it might be.

He knows he'll never let go of Dean the moment the other turns back to him and shoots him an angry glare while being able to smile at the same time, waving two fingers to indicate he wants Seth to move. It shouldn't be sexy but it is.

There is _something_ about Dean – he can't quite put his finger on it – that draws him in. Like catnip.

Yeah, he's so fucked.)

They walk up to the counter side by side, the backs of their hand touching a couple of times, shooting sparks of excitement through his whole body. There's probably a huge grin plastered on his face, confusing the tiny lady behind the reception after she's seen Dean's pissed off expression first.

His co-worker won't talk though. He just stares the girl down as if she gave him a nasty STD, so it's Seth's duty to sort this whole thing out on his own.

He flashes her his most charming smile and tucks his hair back behind his ear while leaning onto the counter and explaining to her what's wrong with grumpy cat Dean Ambrose.

She – her name tag reads Skye – types something into the computer, eyebrows dancing up and down while her pupils move at the speed of light. Whatever is standing in her little report, it frightens her. Or Dean does. Because she looks up at his colleague with pretty amazing Bambi eyes, her fingers shaking a bit.

'We're incredibly sorry. I have no idea how this could happen but there has been some mistake,' Skye almost whispers, her gaze flicking between the two of them. 'It seems like we erroneously double-booked your room.' Dean blinks perplexed and crosses his arm over his chest. Seth tries very hard not to stare at those nice muscles there.

Someone's talking, saying, 'That's fine, really. Just, could you give him another one then?' It's only when the lady types something into the keypad again and Dean clears his throat that Seth realizes it has been him. It's good to know his mouth is still working perfectly fine, because his brain just had a major blackout.

Skye freezes on the spot when a quiet _ping_ can be heard. Even though he has no idea what it means, Seth is pretty sure that they're about to hear some bad news. 'I'm sorry, but there are no more free rooms available.'

'What?' Seth whips his head around, totally happy that they've just said the same thing at the same time, but also worried because a full hotel means that they have to find another one for Dean. And it's already well past two in the morning.

So much for getting this done in just a few minutes. Dean flexes his muscles, making the woman shrink back a bit while Seth just huffs out a laugh and takes the opportunity to grab them, holding the other back. 'No other rooms then?' he asks, disappointment settling in his body when Dean smacks his hand away.

Alright, no touching in public. He got the message. No need to be so crude about it.

'Yes, I'm really sorry, but we're fully booked. There is a convention–' Skye tries to explain but Dean doesn't care. He leans over the counter as if he wants to grab her by the collar to force a free room out of her.

'Yeah, this is– I don't care. I just want a god damn bed for the night.' Seth lays a hand over Dean's – he's stubborn as a mule and will never learn, but the other doesn't even waste a second to push him away once again. Seth counts it as a small victory.

The nice lady's smile is terribly forced; Dean most likely giving her the creeps. Seth can totally understand her though. He thought his colleague was bonkers too when he first barged into FCW, guns blazing, eyes only set on the guy at the top of the food chain.

'Like I said, I'm very sorry, sir. We don't have a room left for you.' Her face lights up when Dean doesn't answer right away, the scowl still dominating his handsome features. 'I can call another hotel to book you something elsewhere or–' she starts to offer, but by now Dean is ready to kick some ass. He's had enough.

Seth watches fascinated how his co-worker cracks his neck and straightens himself up to his full impressive height, eyes going dark, gaze unforgiving, while the words coming out of his mouth are full of venom. 'I think you don't understand when I say I want a bed. Cause I want it _now_.'

To Skye it might seem as if Dean is just really cranky that the hotel made this mistake. She might even think his colleague is always like this. Grumpy, rude and threatening people left and right. Seth on the other hand can see it written all over his face that he's just seriously exhausted.

To the untrained eye, Dean's motions are aggressive ones, but Seth can see how sluggish they actually are; knowing the other's every move by heart already. There are more signs to prove his theory. Like the dark shadows under the blue eyes or how deep and coarse his voice has gotten.

Still, no matter how worn out the other might be, there is no use scaring that poor woman to death. 'Relax, man,' Seth whispers, hand still on Dean's, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Nothing can destroy that. Not even his colleague's furious, 'Don't tell me what to do, Rollins.'

There's a part of him that wants to grab Dean by the shoulders and shake him until he stops calling Seth by his last name all the time. They both know he's perfectly capable of calling him Seth, the other has done it countless times during promos and in the ring. Why does he outright refuse to say his given name as soon as they're talking to each other outside of work and in front of people?

'What's the second option?' he turns to Skye, wanting to hear her suggestion before sending Dean off into the night without some place to crash. (He'd never let the other go though; would run after him and take Dean back to his room, willing to sleep on the floor, just so that his companion would get a few hours of rest.)

'I could order for a spare bed in your room.' 'You what?' The words just tumble out of his mouth unwanted and too loud, making Dean cringe beside him. Before he even knows what's going on, Seth's hand is wrapping itself around air again. He has fucked up his golden opportunity.

Shit. He doesn't want Dean to believe he can't stand him or the thought of sharing a room with him. Even if it's just for one night. Jesus, his co-worker must think he's crazy, sending him mixed signals for the past half hour.

He doesn't even know if Dean is aware of him playing for both teams. Or if he completely abhors the sheer idea of them together. He just realizes that he knows next to nothing about the other, has only ever judged him by his behavior in the ring and during work.

They seriously need to change that.

'If you really don't want to drive to another hotel, I could try to get hold of a spare bed,' the nice lady repeats, oblivious to the war that's taking place inside of Seth's head. He tries to come up with a way to say yes to that without sounding too eager and excited about it.

Dean beats him to it. 'That's not necessary.' 'It isn't?' he blurts out, arm slipping from the counter, making him temporarily lose his footing. He grabs Dean's chest so he won't fall down and looks up at his colleague when strong hands keep him grounded, a smirk dancing across both their lips.

As soon as Seth gets his balance back, Dean lets go – not as fast and desperate as before –, nodding at Skye with a tired sigh. 'No, we'll take the fucking room.' 'We are?' he bursts out once again, the whole situation too much for him to comprehend.

First of all, this is still his room. It's booked on his name, which means he'll pay for it. Not that he minds sharing the bill with Dean, but principles and all that. (In fact, he's just starting to panic at the thought of being in the same room as Dean – a closed space, no one there to interrupt, no one to help him out of he's about to embarrass himself – for a whole long night. Or at least the rest of it.)

Dean shoots him an annoyed glance and rolls his eyes, already turning around to leave the lobby and go back to his – no, _their_ – room. 'Dean,' he yells, voice two octaves higher than usual, jogging after the other. 'What the– why are we–'

It's not like he knows what he's babbling about, so it's actually a relief when Dean just grimaces and inhales deeply before slamming the elevator button angrily, begging, 'Would you please just shut up?'

They make it back without any more occurrences, both standing kind of awkwardly in the middle of the room once the door is closed. Seth can see Dean eyeing the bed like he wants to jump into it before Seth can even move, so he sits on the edge of it and looks up at his colleague with a dissatisfied glare.

'What?' Dean almost snaps, slipping out of his wrestling boots and throwing them in the general vicinity of his jacket. Seth watches them hit the wall and fall down to the ground with a loud thump, once again unable to believe how uncouth Dean can be.

There really is no more need to play the uncultured swine because – at least for tonight – Seth won't buy that bullshit. Dean can trash and fight all he wants to but Seth knows there is more to him than just the aggressive, ruthless animal everyone believes him to be.

He's seen the softness in Dean's eyes, has been granted the first stage of hand-holding without getting beaten the shit out of him for it. Hell, Dean is currently wearing one of Seth's shirts which makes him look dorky and adorable at the same time.

'Dude, she offered an extra one,' Seth points out, taking off his sneakers and placing them next to his own stuff. 'For fuck's sake, why are you still talking?' Dean immediately retorts, but without any heat in his voice. Well, that's a first. Seems like Dean is full of surprises tonight. This might get really interesting.

'Yes, I am, because you declined the second bed. You might have noticed that the couch is not nearly big enough for you.' It's also not comfortable and there are some stains on it that Seth can't identify. He wouldn't want to spend the night on it.

Dean seems to have the same thought. 'Who said I was gonna sleep on the couch?' Oh, no no no. He got here first and just because Dean declined a spare bed or the new hotel room it does not mean that Seth will let him spent the night next to him.

(Who is he even trying to fool? Of course he would let the other hop into the bed any time, 24/7, 365 days of the year. It'd be a dream come true. A wet dream at that.)

But there's still a thing called pride and Seth secretly enjoys the constant bantering with Dean way too much to give in that easily. 'Well, I'm not sharing my bed with you.' 'Then you'll take the floor. Awesome. See, it's that easy.' Oh, he has to admit, the other is really good at this game too.

Seth stands up again, arms crossed over his chest, trying to look stubborn and relentless. 'I am not sleeping on the floor. You take it,' he growls, flinching slightly when Dean steps so close that their noses are almost touching. Seth can even smell the faint traces of sweat and Dean's aftershave. _Oh, retreat, you idiot_ , his brain screams at him but he doesn't listen. He's too focused on Dean's lips moving to form three words. 'Oh hell no.'

He should have heeded his mind's advice to back off, because what comes out of his mouth feels like a noose being placed around his neck. 'Then I'm sleeping with you.' Crap. Why is his brain-to-mouth filter never working when it really should be? Dean just snorts, huffing out an amused, 'Yeah, you wish.'

Okay, time to step back. _Be smart about this, Seth_. 'Maybe I do.' The heck is wrong with him? 'What?' Dean whips his head around, surprise written all over his face. 'What?' Seth shoots back, desperation evident in his voice. He really hopes Dean won't make a big thing out of this. He's already humiliated himself one too many times tonight.

'Now look at you, Rollins,' Dean smiles at him sleazily, blue eyes never once leaving his brown ones. 'Wouldn't have thought you were into people like me.'

What does that even mean, people like him? Is he fishing for compliments now because no one ever tells him how damn mysterious and handsome he is? Or does he want the painful truth being shoved down his throat that he is a thorn in almost everybody's side because he never behaves himself and blindly beats up everyone and everything that crosses his path?

Seth's opinion about Dean is a weird combination of the two, but he's hell-bent on changing that. There has to be more to Dean than meets the eye and Seth wants to be the first to discover it. 'People like you?' he asks hesitantly after a while, still not sure how he should continue the conversation after his slip up.

Dean pulls the covers back – the simple motion increasing the frenzied rabbiting of his heart – and gets into the bed, giving him a smug grin once he's settled down. He's wiggling his eyebrows at Seth, obviously wanting to keep up the _I will continue to pretend I don't care what you think about me_ attitude.

No, Seth won't let him off the hook that easily. This is _his_ night, the one where Seth wants to peel away all of Dean's forts to see the real guy hiding beneath. So, pushing and prodding it is. 'You mean foul-mouthed, aggressive, slightly arrogant, the kind of crazy that's for some weird reason really hot type of guys?'

Dean lets the words sink in, his face the stage for a series of cute grimaces, before he finally breathes out a, 'More or less.' Really? Seth has just insulted and flattered Dean in one sentence and that's all he has to say to that? Two can play that game, Ambrose. 'I'm not.'

'Good, because I'd never let you tap that,' Dean counters while waving his hands up and down to show Seth what he'll never get a taste of. What an arrogant jerk. It's not like Seth is lusting after him all day long. (Which he totally does.) 'Fine! I don't want you to,' he grits out, yanking at the covers to get into the bed himself. 'No one ever would,' he adds as an afterthought.

And instantly regrets it. It's frustrating what Dean Ambrose is able to do to his body and mind. 'You know, maybe someone might,' he tries to backpaddle but Dean just sighs loudly and turns off the lights, snarling, 'Okay, seriously, would you shut up now? I wanna sleep.'

It should have ended with that. Just another night with another co-worker in the same bed. Nothing spectacular or awesome. But this is Dean lying next to him and everything about him is _different_.

So, it's not really a surprise when they start fighting over the covers. It's actually pretty hot in the room but neither of them wants to give up; tugging at that damn sheet whenever the other yanks it away. They're behaving like kids, they probably both know but giving up is never an option.

Dean is slightly stronger but what Seth lacks in strength he makes up with obstinacy. It's a war and there's no way to tell who's going to win it.

They're lying with their backs turned to each other, hands casually brushing when they try to grip the blanket in the middle to get the final advantage over the other. Seth knows he just got the lead when Dean huffs out an annoyed, 'Stop it.' 'You stop it,' Seth backtalks, grin plastered on his face.

'What are you, twelve?' his fellow wrestler asks, finally turning around to grab Seth's upper arm and force him to look Dean in the eyes. Which is a bit difficult because it's in the middle of the night and Seth can't see anything, except for the other's silhouette.

'Look who's talking,' he snickers, happy that he won the first round. Small victory, but an important one nonetheless. He watches Dean rub over his face in the darkness, his stomach starting to clench at the sight. 'Okay, this is not working.' Shit. No, he didn't want the evening to escalate this badly. Seth can't let Dean just leave.

'You should have accepted the extra bed,' he whispers a bit sadly. 'I should have taken the other hotel.' Now that's just mean. It's not like they haven't had at least some fun tonight. 'It's not _that_ bad,' Seth protests, his lips allowing a whine to escape. Why is everything with Dean so complicated?

'Stop hitting on me,' comes the tired response and Dean lies back down again, leaving Seth sitting there in the dark, shocked and insecure. So Dean really put two and two together to realize that Seth is indeed trying to charm him. (With, admittedly, weird methods, but hey, he never claimed to be good at this. Especially if the other person is someone so resistant and complex as Dean.)

'I'm not– you know what? I don't care anymore.' He does care a lot, but it's obvious that Dean has shut the door on him. There's not a chance in hell that the two of them will ever be more than opponents, just mere co-workers. 'Good,' Dean barks out, making Seth cringe in the faint moonlight.

'Good,' he murmurs, mouth impossibly dry, the ache in his stomach getting worse to the point he wants to throw up just to ease the pain.

He stays where he is, Dean's presence calming him for some strange reason, even though they just established a _we won't ever be friends, so stop trying_ kind of peace. He's never felt so sad and let down in his entire life. But mostly, he's just angry at himself that he thought Dean was worth a second and third look. Worth to deal with the shitty surface to reach the golden heart Dean surely must be hiding deep down.

He's been wrong, has fooled himself. Once again he idolized someone who doesn't deserve his attention. If it wouldn't be so suspicious, he'd slap himself right across the face now. Maybe he'll finally be able to learn from this mistake then. Seth really wishes that Dean Ambrose is the last straw to help him focus on nice and boring people.

They may not be the most exciting partners but at least he knows what to expect.

'I hope you lose that damn title,' Dean says all of a sudden, voice tenderly teasing him, proving Seth once again wrong. All he's thought to be true got erased with just one tiny insult from Dean that wasn't even meant to hurt. It's meant to mend things.

Dean has sensed that Seth was beating himself up for a while now, has even thought it'd be nice to help him get over it. Maybe Dean isn't so bad after all. He just really wants others to stay away from him. For whatever reason. And even though Seth would love to solve this puzzle right away, he's willing to give it more time.

He's always known that Dean is worth every ounce of attention and admiration Seth is able to give. It's just really good to know that Dean is giving him a chance to see the real him too.

'I hope you go bald,' he jokes back, perfectly aware that Dean's hair is a touchy subject. How many times has he grabbed it in the ring, yanked at it, just so that the other would hunt him down backstage after the match to yell at him that it's illegal to pull the hair (please, he gets grabbed by it all the time too) until Dean finally got to the good part, letting it slip that he's losing a lot of it in a really alarmingly short amount of time.

Seth had just stared at him, tried to picture Dean with a buzzcut or a bald head. He couldn't, still can't, but it doesn't matter. In the end, it's Dean Seth has a crush for. The man behind the mask.

The one who starts laughing after being too stunned to react in any other way. (Seth doesn't know if it's the manic _I'm gonna kill you if that ever happens because obviously you just cursed me_ kind of laugh or the _hey kid, you're actually pretty cute and funny_ one but he's so relieved that he didn't get kicked for his comeback that he joins Dean; both giggling so hard that they have to sit up to catch their breath again.

He likes this. Dean all comfortable and unguarded right beside him. He's always known there's more to Dean than just violence and cockiness. But he'd never imagined that it'd be so beautiful.

This whole situation makes him want to be bold, to throw caution in the wind. Just for this one night he wants to take a risk, even if he might fall down face first. Even if Dean ends up hating him.

'So, just hypothetically,' he starts more hesitantly than he wants to after they've calmed down a bit. He sees Dean turning his head towards him (the other is probably even able to see his face in the dark since the moonlight shines directly on Seth) and hears a good-humored, 'Yep?'

Well, now or never, right? Whatever he does now, this moment will pass like every other one too, and if he won't make a move now, he'll regret it forever. Living with a rejection is easier than having to deal with regret. He's learned that the hard way already. He won't make the same mistake twice.

'If I would hit on you wholeheartedly, could it lead to anything?' He stops breathing – his whole body tense as hell – until Dean snickers, asking, 'What, tonight?' There is no disgust in the other's voice, just the slightly naive curiosity Seth had hoped for. Tiredness still slows down every word and movement but Seth seems to have Dean's undivided attention when he shrugs and adds very casually, 'Hypothetically, yeah.'

It didn't really work one hundred percent, because his tone still sounds way too close to a plea. There's not a shadow of a doubt that Dean is able to read him like an open book, sees the words _but there could be more if you want to; I'd be totally cool with it_ written all over his face.

There's a moment when neither of them moves, Dean thinking about Seth's offer and Seth almost dying on the inside because he can't handle uncertainty. 'Well,' Dean eventually says, warm fingers reaching out to find his own, and leans closer. Seth's heart tries to jump out of his ribcage to join Dean's when the other whispers in a husky voice, 'Why don't we find out?'


End file.
